


everybody has their demons

by welcometothemeatshack



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M, demon balor is a separate entity, set during summerslam 2018
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 20:35:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17515466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welcometothemeatshack/pseuds/welcometothemeatshack
Summary: Don’t get carried away.Finn’s thoughts are almost amused, Bálor notes.I know it’s been a bit, but try to keep focused.





	everybody has their demons

**Author's Note:**

> Something I've been thinking about for a while. (Working title.)

**_It’s been much too long._**  
  
Bálor breathes in, deep and slow, taking in the stench of the humans nearby, the scents of anticipation and anxiety and elation and defeat all mingling together, sending a shiver down his spine.  
  
_Don’t get carried away._ Finn’s thoughts are almost amused, Bálor notes. _I know it’s been a bit, but try to keep focused._  
  
Bálor scoffs and turns away from the humans, the aroma of heightened emotions still filling his previously suppressed senses. **_I’m no newly-spawned brat. My capability for multitasking is far beyond yours._** Even as Bálor thinks it at Finn, another scent catches his attention, musky and male and excited enough to reach Bálor across an entire room of others; it’s familiar, one he had been in close proximity to just over two years before, one he’s only had the opportunity to take in secondhand from Finn over the last few months.  
  
Finn stirs and shuffles just beneath Bálor’s control, regaining his attention. _So much for multitasking. Keep it together. Seth has his own thing to focus on tonight._ It grates on Bálor, the way Finn sounds as if he’s _reprimanding_ him, chiding the _Demon King_ , but he turns away from the familiar scent and heads where he is needed.  
  
***  
  
It’s gratifying, truly, to see the fear in his opponent when he comes out. It’s one of Bálor’s favorite things, the way these UpperWorld humans frighten so easily at the sight of him, the way they attempt to scramble away, escape before Bálor gets his hands on them. This one - the one who claims to be a “lone wolf” - needs to be taught a lesson, Bálor laughs to himself, and Finn agrees with him, laughing along as this _wolf_ cowers and turns tail as he tries to escape Bálor’s wrath.  
  
It’s over as quickly as it begins and Bálor feels only the slightest regret that he doesn’t drag it out, make the man suffer, but it’s been over a year since he’s come out and he’s eager to explore, reacquaint himself with the high volume of scents and sights and sounds, all as amplified by his demon nature when he’s in control as they are dulled by Finn’s human one when the Irishman is. He relishes in the pain, the scents of anguish and defeat and anger, and breathes deeply, eyes closed, his grin so much sharper than Finn’s.  
  
Most humans instinctively avoid him; they sense that something is _off_ about Finn, though they may not be capable of fully comprehending that Bálor and Finn are very _different_ entities, demon paint or no. The girl, the one Finn is most fond of (Bálor is unimpressed), comes up to him, shifts nervously and makes an aborted movement, as if to _touch_ Bálor, but quickly corrects herself, a speculative look in her dark eyes.

“Great job,” the girl tells him, offering a smile that falters before it is even fully spread. Bálor’s lip curls into a snarl (the _gall_ of this child), but Finn pushes, shoves at Bálor, an uncomfortable pressure as he threatens to take back control if Bálor frightens the girl; the snarl smoothes into a thin line, and Bálor tilts his head, a sight he knows is unnerving to those who know Finn, narrowing his eyes. “Maybe that’ll teach Corbin a lesson.”

Bálor very much doubts that, but it’s perfectly fine; he’ll make a reappearance to the man, happily, to show him the error of his ways - and, _oh,_ Bálor will take his time and enjoy making him _suffer_ , then.

Someone calls to the girl ( _Bayley_ , Finn corrects, and Bálor has the sudden impression of eyes rolling at him) and she glances in their direction, an almost _relieved_ smile appearing before she looks back to Bálor and says, slightly awkwardly, “Well, I guess I’ll see you later?” Bálor responds with a low noise that could be either affirmative or not. She laughs, a little nervously, already inching away. “Right. Bye, Finn.” There’s a slight pause before she says the name, almost as if there was another on the tip of her tongue - as if she knows it isn’t _Finn_ she’s speaking to - and, yes, that is interesting; Bálor feels a slight spike of respect (not very much) as she holds eye contact for a moment more, then bounces away to the purple-haired woman down the hall.

 _Be nice to the people I actually like_ , Finn scolds, but there’s a light bit of laughter in the words, so Bálor chooses to ignore them and resumes striding through the building, his long-dormant senses going wild - scent, especially. He catches brief hints of that familiar scent from earlier, of the boy Finn is so enamored with (for Bálor, it is more a feeling of _possession_ , of **mine, Finn’s, _ours_** ), but it is mixed with the scent of another, overpowering, and Bálor feels a snarl contort his expression, a growl rumbling deep in his chest, and he gets the sense of Finn laughing at him. _Calm down; it’s only Ambrose._

Bálor scowls. **_Ambrose._** He knows the name, knows the supposed _history_ behind him and the one with the enticing scent.

**_Mine._ **

That is the only thought that races through Bálor’s mind as he continues his journey through the corridors, every slight inkling of _Ambrose’s_ scent mingled with Finn’s human - with _Bálor’s_ claim - making him itch to _claw_ and _rip_ and _tear_ until **_blood_** spills-

**_There._ **

As he turns the corner, Bálor is stopped in his tracks.

**_Mine._ **

Finn’s voice is in the back of his mind, exasperated - _leave him be_ \- but Bálor is focusing solely on the sight in front of him, on the vision of _Dean Ambrose’s_ arms wrapped around **_Finn’s, mine, ours-_**

He sees red.


End file.
